


Love Waits

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Series: Godstuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, Pagan Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>based on chapter 18, which pretty much wrecked me</p>
    </blockquote>





	Love Waits

**Author's Note:**

> based on chapter 18, which pretty much wrecked me

It was so hard being without him all those years. Decades and centuries passing with only the faintest feeling of him, that tugging at your heart and the light-as-air pressure on your forearm where his sign once stood out boldly on your skin. It was so hard searching and searching and coming up with nothing, knowing how small the world was but still having him be just beyond your grasp.

This, though. Having him easily within reach with not a whisper of recognition, not a hint of the memories you once shared with him... it's killing you. Slowly and surely it pulls at your heartstrings and twists your insides into unhappy knots. Your heart sits heavy in your chest like a weight, pulling you into ever-growing despair.

You don't know how long you stay on their couch when Aradia finally comes to you, voice soft and sweet as it had always been, eyes full of compassion.

"Don’t give up, just yet.”

You grumble into the cushions, sulky and depressed. Her hand traces soothing circles along your back as she goes on.

“Why don’t you try to spend time with him? Take him to places, do things he used to like… maybe go on dates with him? Remind him of what you used to have. It will help, maybe.”

You pause your melancholy thoughts, letting her suggestion sink in. Eventually, you agree.

You start out small. You approach him with caution, hands raised in peace. You would catch the tiniest upturn of his lips, sometimes, and it made you bolder. You would stand beside him while he cooked, handing him ingredients and always silent, always watching. Watching the way his arms moved, his hands, remembering all those times so long ago when you would do things like this. When he remembered you. 

You start asking him out, sometimes. To a movie, the park, anywhere. You feel as if you're wooing him all over again, trying to find any way to be with him, just the two of you. And the first time he agrees your heart soars, like it had so many centuries ago when you'd done something similar for the very first time, and he'd agreed with bright eyes and an even brighter smile.

You go out in crowds, go to the museum. You look over paintings of battlefields and feel your followers with their racing hearts and ready hands. You smell gun powder and blood, feel the violence course through your veins as you tell him what they felt, what they saw. You don't remember specific battles, but you know the feeling of war as sure as you know your own face, as sure as you know his. He listens and looks at the painting with wide eyes, his presence keeping you calm even as the feelings of wars long-past wash over you like tidal waves. He anchors you to the present when your mind is full of memories. He taps your shoulder, sometimes, to point out a crowd you'd gathered with your recollections, and you smile.

You go out with him, always watching him, studying his face for a hint of understanding. Wishing and hoping for him to remember even small things, snatches of anything. But he doesn't. Weeks of trying to make him remember, and still not a sign of progress. You grow discouraged all over again, your days with him growing less and less frequent until eventually they stop. You go back to the couch with your face down on the cushions and try not to fall too deeply into despair.

It's on one of these days that something happens. It's getting late, and you have been on the couch the whole day. You breathe, trying to be calm, to ignore the heaviness of your heart. You hear keys jingling from outside, the click of the lock. Quiet footsteps. You know it's him without lifting your head but you turn to face him anyway, your curls drooping in your face like vines.

He approaches you the way you did him, hands raised, steps soft and measured. He has a bag in his hand. You shift as he comes to stand beside you, sitting up to make room for him on the couch. You try to comb your unruly hair into some semblance of order, and he moves a hand forward to fix it for you, your chest feeling lighter at his touch. You lean in without a thought, his touch as familiar to you as breathing.

He pulls his hand away, clears his throat, and speaks.

“I, got you some pie. I think it was your favorite?” Your eyebrows rise in disbelief, surprised that he would even get you something.

He points at the bag by his feet and you reach in, grabbing two cups before he stops you.

“N-no!” he all but shouts, making you freeze in place before he continues, voice quieter. “I mean, I was, thinking that, today is a, really warm day, and the park is, nice, this time of the day, no one’s really there so…”

The way he stumbles across his words, so nervous but never giving up. It is so like himself, do much like your memories of when you'd first met him. Your heart is beating out of your chest, feeling so light that you wonder if it will flutter right out of your body.

You smile. You smile at him fondly, lovingly. The way you always smiled at him when you were together so many centuries ago. He gets a look on his face as if he's seen something special, and your heart flips in your chest.

You get up and take the bag, your hand shaking. But you don't try to hide your smile, feeling lighter then you have in days. He takes your hand in his and you look at him like he’d made gold appear out of thin air. You tighten your hold on his hand just slightly as you walk with him, feeling so happy you could die.

You don’t know if he'll ever remember loving you. You don't know if he will ever be quite the way he was all those years ago. But you made a promise to him that you would love him forever, no matter what. You will love him for centuries more, and you will do whatever you can for him to love you back.


End file.
